


Dennis Kills Mac in the Suburbs

by Shy_the_lawyer



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Burying a Body, Canon Divergence, Canon Dog Death, Canon Non-Binary Character, Dennis Reynolds is a Bastard Man, Desperation, Episode: s11e05 Mac & Dennis Move to the Suburbs, Fear, Gen, Murder, Non-binary Charlie Kelly, Nothing but angst, Panic Attacks, Serial Killer Dennis Reynolds, Swearing, but not in a healthy way, charmac if you squint, im so glad that’s a tag, kind of macdennis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shy_the_lawyer/pseuds/Shy_the_lawyer
Summary: Basically, if they had cracked just a day earlier.
Relationships: Charlie Kelly & Mac McDonald & Dee Reynolds & Dennis Reynolds & Frank Reynolds, Mac McDonald & Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	Dennis Kills Mac in the Suburbs

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings, in case you didn’t read the tags:  
> •graphic violence   
> •graphic murder  
> •intense fear
> 
> Stay safe friends <3

It had been a hard day.

That would be his excuse till the end of time.

_ I’m not a monster, you see!! It was temporary insanity brought on by my bitch sister and our bitch friends and the bitchy asshole that causes all the traffic! It’s not my fault, really! _

Rewind a few hours back to when there was less blood on his clothes and no corpse on the property.

Well, unless you count the dog.

~•~

It had been a hard day. 

If Dennis was being honest with himself, all the days spent in the suburbs had been hard and getting increasingly worse the longer they’d been there. 

Dee had spilled a cocktail on his lap—the bitch—and Charlie had been out with Frank, scavenging the trash in an attempt to broaden their Russian hat collection, which had left all the Charlie Work to him. 

Which included sweeping up the shattered glass that Dee had dropped, and the three other glasses that he had thrown at her head in retaliation. 

He hated all the cleaning, but it was almost better than being at home. The key word being “almost”, because every time he was so much as five minutes late without warning, Mac would start calling him  _ incessantly. You’d think the damned dog would keep him company. _

He started grinding his teeth at the thought, and chucked his phone at the wall, shattering it. He hoped the extra mess would give him all the more reason to stay at work.

~•~

The ride home was taking longer than usual, and despite Dennis wanting to avoid home at all costs, extra traffic was  _ not  _ what he had in mind. 

He flipped on the radio, deciding it was best to not stew in his own thoughts for too long. 

“There are reports of a traffic backup—“

“ _No shit!!_ ”  Dennis screamed at the radio. The woman, obviously, didn’t respond.

“—it’s believed to have been caused by an accident—“

“An accident, huh? I’ll show you an accident, you stuck-up bitch.”

“—a four-car pile up—“

Dennis paused at that. A smile crept onto his features. He could respect that kind of chaos, ruining everyone else’s day, and he was  _ delighted  _ that the asshole who caused all the traffic had finally got his Just Desserts. 

After all, if it weren’t for the accident, Dennis might have killed the man himself.

He started to laugh at the thought.

~•~

By the time he got home, the novelty of the crash had worn off and he was back to being pissed.

He almost threw hands with the annoying, monotone pest they had of a neighbor, before Mac drew him back to reality. He knew that hallucinations were never a  _ good  _ thing, but he decided to push it to the back of his mind, along with the small grave he saw Mac digging.

He went upstairs and laid down on his bed, not sleeping, just staring straight-faced at the ceiling until Mac called him down for dinner.

He walked down the stairs and almost gagged at the sight of another plate of mac n cheese. He had been bored of the taste by the third day, absolutely sick of it by the fifth, and he wasn’t excited for another round of forcing the cheesy mush down his throat just so that Mac wouldn’t cause a fuss.

Although, there turned out to be no point in gagging on the curly noodles because Mac caused a fuss anyway. 

“Everything I do, I do for  _you_ , and everything  _ you  _ do, you do for _yourself_ _!!_ ”  He started throwing stalker-esque photos of him down on the table between them. Dennis couldn’t find it within himself to care too much.

“You didn’t even notice I switched up the mac n cheese!” 

Dennis was taken aback. No, understatement, he was  _appalled_. 

“Is that what this is about?” He paused. “The god damn mac n cheese? Well  _ yeah  _ I noticed! You put  _ meat hunks  _ in it!  _Woooow! Hunks of meat!!_ ”  His voiced raised along with his agitation, angry at the pettiness coming from his roommate.

“Well of course  _ Dennis  _ would like  _Dennis!_ ”

“ _What?_ ”  His voice was still raised from his previous fury. 

“It’s  _Dennis, Dennis!!_ ”

“ What are you talkin’ ‘bout,” he said through a mouthful of mac n cheese. He had an idea at what Mac was trying to convey, but he didn’t want to be the first one to say it.

“ _You’re eating the dog!!_ ”  Mac screeched. He started laughing maniacally, and it was one of the most horrifying sounds Dennis had ever heard.

He started spitting his food out rapidly before yelling a quick “ _What is wrong with you?!_ ”, getting up from the table and storming off to find his suitcase. But as he opened the closet and an avalanche of Kraft mac n cheese rained down on him, his horror quickly turned to fury.

A fury that just increased at Mac’s pathetic attempts to explain himself.

He stalked into the living room and picked up a fire poker, his face red as hot coals.

“ _Let’s create a fuss for all the neighbors, huh!! Let’s ruin their perfect little unchanging bubble!! Have them come over and see what all the fighting is about!!_ ”  He went on a screaming tirade, brandishing the poker as he spoke. Mac looked significantly less angry and slightly more scared than before, not that Dennis noticed or cared.

“Wait, Dennis, calm  _down_ ,”  Mac’s hands were out in front of him, in both a calming and protective nature. In the back of his mind, he thought  _ I’m gonna have to make a run for it,  _ but he pushed the thought down and focused on the man in front of him.

“Don’t you tell me to calm  _down_ —“  he was cut off by a beep. 

The constant  _ fucking  _ beep of a carbon monoxide detector Mac wasn’t aware of and Dennis was too stubborn to do anything about.

Mac immediately switched gears at the sound of the detector.

“There’s that chirping again, how are you not hearing that?!” 

_ Beep. _

_ “Newsflash asshole, I’ve been hearing it the entire goddamn time!!” _

_ “ Then why wouldn’t you say something?!” _

_ “ ** Because I hate you! ** _ ” And as he growled the words out, he knew that every one of them was true. 

He took the fire poker in both hands, stood in a batting position, and swung at Mac.

He barley hit, causing Mac’s shirt to rip and a thin line of blood to form on his skin. 

They both stood there for a moment, stunned.

Then, Mac sharply turned on his heel, and the chase was on.

~•~

Mac was hiding in the upstairs bathroom, huddled behind the shower curtain, tears silently streaming down his face. 

The hallway was littered with the broken shards of the countless things Dennis had thrown at him in an attempt to slow him down, and the countless more things Mac had thrown back in the hopes he could get away.

Mac was bleeding, from his arms, his head, his thighs. He had a slight limp from a shot glass that had got him hard in the knee. He swallowed, blood and tears sliding down his throat. His lip was busted, from both the plate Dennis had thrown at his head and how hard he was biting it in order to stay silent.

He heard the slow crunch of glass and plastic as Dennis stalked down the hall, closer, ever closer.

Mac clasped his blood-stained hands together and started praying, hoping that god would take mercy on his poor soul. 

He heard Dennis fling open the door of the closet and started praying harder. He sniffled. 

When Dennis had thoroughly rifled through the closet and was content that Mac wasn’t nestled into its dark corners, he continued on.

He reached the door of the bathroom and flung it open. Mac clasped a large hand over his mouth and silently prayed, harder than he ever had before, that Dennis wouldn’t check behind the shower curtain.

No such luck.

He tore the curtain partially off its rack as he opened it. When he spotted Mac, hunched over, bloodied, and crying, a maniacal grin started to stretch across his face. 

“ _Here’s Dennis!_ ”  He screamed.

“Dennis, pl—“ Mac started to plead. But before he got a chance to even begin to beg for his life, Dennis brought down his fire poker on Mac’s head. Mac immediately went limp, but Dennis didn’t seem to notice, as he continued to bash his body, striking his shoulders, his torso, his legs, his neck. He then raised the fire poker back, like a spear, before plunging it into Mac’s chest. 

The large splatter of blood that landed on his face seemed to bring him back to reality. 

He looked down at Mac, at his bloodied and bruised form, and gasped.

He quietly screamed, and fell to his knees beside the body. 

“Mac?” He asked softly. He put his hand on the side of Mac’s face, angling it up and towards him. “Mac? Buddy? You there?” It was pointless and he knew it. He knew Mac was dead.

He knew he had killed him. 

Bludgeoned his poor best friend to death. He didn’t even  _ care  _ about the dog or the mac n cheese anymore. 

Well, sort of. 

He spent the evening crying through his panic attack, and when the sun went down he went to the backyard, grabbed a shovel from the shed, and started to dig.

~•~

When he thought the hole was big enough, he threw the shovel aside and made the trek back into the house, stepping around broken glasses and stereos and gulf clubs. 

When he got up to the bathroom, he almost hurled. In his original shocked state, it hadn’t registered quite how horrifying the mangled corpse of his dead best friend was. 

He took a deep inhale, swallowing the bile back down his throat, and looped his arms under Mac’s shoulders. 

He dragged the deadweight down the hall and to the top of the stairs. He briefly thought about how disrespectful it would be to just push his body down them, before letting out a resigned sigh and doing it anyway. Mac rolled and tumbled and Dennis almost laughed, horrified with himself.

He then quickly walked down the stairs after Mac, and continued to drag him over the rubble of their earlier fight.

“Goddamn, Mac, all your stupid muscles made you so  _heavy_ ,”  he muttered to the body he was dragging. He decided  _ not  _ to take a moment to think about how insane that was. Instead, he just continued on, dragging Mac’s body outside and almost dropping him in the pool in the process.

When he got to the hole he had dug, he realized very quickly that he had miscalculated. 

“God  _ damnit  _ Mac! You’re too big!” He screamed at the motionless corpse by his feet. He took a breath, lowering his voice to a soft mutter. “Makin’ my life harder, even in death, huh.”

He picked the shovel back up and continued to dig, sweat dripping down his back. When he was satisfied, he dragged Mac over to the hole and rolled him in, before starting the slightly less laborious task of actually  _ burying  _ the body. 

When he was done, he sat down at the grave’s side, and breathed heavily. His arms were propped up on his knees, his fingers lightly entangled. 

“Guess I should say a few words, huh? Should I go get some candles?” He laughed to himself. “Well, for starters, I’m sorry. About killing you,” he took a breath. “And the rest, I guess. You were an asshole but you didn’t deserve that. I should’ve been here more. You were my best friend, and I fucked up. I’m sorry, man.”

As he spoke to the unresponsive grave, he thought of a poem he had once heard somewhere.

_ You’re going to die in your best friend’s arms.  _

He wondered if that was how Mac had felt. 

“What were your last thoughts? Were you scared? You seemed scared,” His tone was toeing the fragile line between remorseful and proud. A small smile graced his lips as he stared down at the pile of dirt.

~•~

Dennis didn’t remember dragging himself to his bedroom. He didn’t remember falling asleep, either, not that it mattered.

It had been the best sleep he had had since they moved to the suburbs, and he was content.

As the thought— _they_ — fluttered through his mind, every other thought came to a screeching halt. His world seemed to have stopped as the memory of last night came flooding back to him, the guilt bubbling up in his organs. He started to cry, just a little bit, before he heard a knock at the door. 

He immediately stopped crying and shot up.

“Now who the fuck could that be,” he muttered to himself. He quickly stripped off his bloodstained shirt and grabbed the first baggy sweatshirt— _Mac’s_ — he could find and slipped it over his head, hoping that it was large enough on him to hide the bloodstains on his arms, neck, pants, hands—well, everywhere. 

He heard another knock at the door, this time slightly harsher.

“ _I’m coming!_ ”  He screeched down the hall and hurried down the stairs, stepping on hunks of glass and flinging the door open with a flourish.

“What the hell do you—“

“Congratulations!!” The three people in front of him cheered. It was Dee, Charlie, and Frank, laden with a champagne bottle and smiling brightly. 

“You did it!” Dee cheered brightly. If he had the ability to focus right then, he would’ve thought about how she was more excited for her bed than actually proud of them.

But he  _ didn’t  _ have the ability to focus, the horror dawning on him and steadily getting worse as Charlie counted down the seconds on their watch. 

“2 . . . 1! Congrats!!” They all cheered for him as Frank pulled out a large wad of cash, forcing it into Dennis’s limp hands.

Dee popped open the bottle and took a swig, while Charlie started looking behind Dennis. 

“Hey, where’s Mac?” It took everything in him not to cry.

“Oh, he’s just out. At the store. He won’t be back until late, though, so don’t feel like waiting for him.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Dee said, before returning the bottle to her lips. She chugged it for a long while, before shoving the bottle at Dennis and turning on her heel. “Later, loser,” she said, Frank right behind her. Charlie took one last look into the house, confused, before following the two of them back to Frank’s car.

Dennis watched them drive off, before letting out a deep sigh. He then closed the front door, locked it, and leaned against it, as he let out a horrific combination of insane laughter and hysterical tears.

He allowed himself time to cry, time to grieve, both by himself and with the gang, who helped him file the missing persons report the next day. Charlie was still stapling up missing posters that Dennis took down every time he saw one, and Frank got the “thousand yard stare” every once in awhile. Dee was drinking more, but that was to be expected.

Dennis still felt guilty over Mac’s fate, and even a bit guilty over his friends’ mourning, but after a while he just shrugged it off and decided to enjoy the rest of his rent-free year.

After all, Mac wasn’t the first friend Dennis had _dealt_ with , and he probably wouldn’t be the last either. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Comments and kudos are really appreciated<3
> 
> The poem line mentioned is “Planet Of Love” by Richard Siken
> 
> If you’d like to see more of me, follow me on [tumblr](https://tumblr.com/%5BShy-the-lawyer%5D) and [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/shy_the_lawyer%5D) !! Have a lovely day<3


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